


we were built to fall apart (then fall back together)

by thefrangirl (fearlesslyfabulousfangirl)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlesslyfabulousfangirl/pseuds/thefrangirl
Summary: Sansa had imagined this a number of times over the last couple of years—about what she'd do the moment she sees Theon again.She just didn't think she'd end up doing the one thing she told herself she won't ever be doing.She just wishes someone had warned her in advance.[Modern AU that's not wholly focused on Theon/Sansa. Family hijinks included. Multi-POV.]





	1. Arya I

 

Sansa has been nothing but reserved for the last eight years and it made her sister absolutely unnerved to say the least. Arya used to be so annoyed about how unabashedly girly her older sister was, with her love for frilly dresses and her nonstop blabbing about boys. With her fiery red hair flowing down her back and lithe figure, Sansa represented everything she was not. It used to bother Arya to the core, hearing relatives gush about how pretty the elder Stark daughter has grown. They would turn to look at her with a small smile that almost looks like a grimace as if they were disappointed to see that the other daughter didn’t take after their mother Catelyn’s Tully good looks. Not that it really mattered to her, because she was proud to look more like a Stark than a Tully. It suited her more—her tough personality matches well with those big grey eyes of hers. Like how Sansa looking more a Tully suited her more—their beauty was apparent, something to be gazed at and loved, and Sansa wanted nothing more than to be loved and adored.

  
But that was the old Sansa.

  
After what happened, that Sansa—her bright, starry-eyed sister who would not stop having monologues who spoke of nothing but princes or knights in shining armour that would sweep her off her feet one day, has disappeared. Now the Sansa before her was just a shell of what she once was. Arya could have sworn seeing a tiny glimpse of the Sansa she used to know, but then it would vanish as soon as it had emerged. Her sister still smiled from time, and she still laughed, even. But, it looks as though she forced herself into reacting that way, to make everyone think she’s fine, that nothing’s wrong. Maybe it fools the rest of the family sometimes. Their parents and their brothers would sigh with relief when it seems as though Sansa was put together, but a sister cannot be fooled. Even if she was three years younger and even if it appeared as though they were polar opposites, Arya could always tell what her older sister was feeling. She can always see the vacant look in her eyes when she smiles, and she could the hollow sound that comes out of her mouth when she is feigning laughter. The Sansa before her is familiar yet unrecognizable at the same time.

 

“Arya, are you even listening? You’ve been weirdly staring at me the entire time I was talking!” Sansa snapped her fingers repeatedly in front of her sister’s face.

  
“I’m sorry. What?”

  
“I asked you whether or not you’ve already told Gendry about the wedding theme. I don’t want him wearing something awfully mismatched again,” she frowned, moving her hands to massage her temples. “Like that bloody green tie he wore at Robb and Margie’s wedding. It stood out like a sore thumb in the photos!”

  
“It was a yellow green tie! You said anything that’s yellow!” Arya defended. She remembered how the souvenir-shop tie (such an unlikely place to find a tie) was her boyfriend’s last resort after realizing that he left the tie back in their shared flat in London. Sansa had helped her pick it out a month before the wedding, so one could imagine how insulted she was with the fact that Gendry never got to use it.

  
“It was in more of a greenish hue.” Sansa huffed.

  
“Okay, fine.” Arya had no choice but to concede. “But it’s not totally Gendry’s fault,” she defended. “That was the closest thing we found to the yellow you were looking for and it--”

  
“Fine,” Sansa cut her off. “Just remind him to secure an arctic blue tie for this one, yeah? I don’t want to see anything turquoise, navy or even cerulean, got it?”

  
She shrugged in reply. “Arctic blue, okay.”

  
“Arya, I’m serious!” Her sister exclaimed, but her face expressed anything but.

  
She lifted both her hands up in surrender. “Okay, yeah, I got it, sis. Relax.”

 

“Let me know if you’re having trouble finding the exact color, okay?”

  
Before Arya could reply that _yes_ , she will call if they can’t find a bloody blue tie, the waiter came with their orders.

  
“Finally!” she dove into her meal without taking a breath.

  
Sansa gave the waiter a grateful nod before taking a sip of her strawberry iced tea. She then turned to Arya. “I’m glad you could make time for lunch today.”

  
“I’ve submitted all my papers that are due before the break. And I asked an early time off at the coffee shop.” She replied, her mouth slightly full. “I’m surprised you even invited me for lunch today. You’re always so busy with the millions of weddings you have to plan every single day.

  
“Actually,” Sansa began, taking a small bite of her sandwich. “I will be dedicating my entire schedule for Jon and Dany.”

  
“What?” Arya looked at her sister, wide-eyed, feigning over-reaction. “Sansa Stark, wedding planner extraordinaire, is about give everything she’s got just for one wedding?”

  
The older Stark girl chuckled. “With the business booming, I figured that I might do a poor job of planning their wedding if I have other weddings to think about.”

  
Sansa’s wedding planning business began as a small venture, the first of her customers being Robb and Margaery two years ago. Since then it has expanded, and she became the youngest, most in demand wedding planner in east Europe just at the age of twenty-three.

  
“I think that’s lovely. I remember you used to be so mean to Jon when we were younger because he took Robb’s attention away from you.” From what she had heard from family dinners and late night drinking sessions, in the first few weeks when their father Ned had taken Jon into their home, he and Robb became inseparable. And it displeased little Sansa so much because no one would play her knight anymore.

  
Her sister gave her an incredulous look. “You remember? You were too preoccupied with attempting to borrow the boys’ stuff to notice that.”

  
Arya realized she was walking on thin ice and might bring up something that might upset Sansa. After the cousins have become almost practically attached to the hip, Sansa would follow the boys around, waiting for them to notice her. But Jon wasn't her only competition for her big brother's attention. Before their cousin, it was Theon Greyjoy, Robb's best friend from school. Theon hung around their house a lot, and Arya knows this because he was nearly in every photograph from their childhood. Eventually, it seemed that Theon had decided to humor Sansa and began playing with her as the valiant knight who would later marry the princess. Soon after, Robb and Jon tagged along and portrayed the villians to her story. It was such a harmless little tale, but Arya would know to divert the conversation elsewhere.

  
“Okay, enough about the boys. What does Dany think about all this?” She asked, knowing that the wedding talk will steer her sister away from an unwanted memory.

  
“She’s excited. But I can tell she’s a little bit nervous.”

  
Arya nodded in understanding. Everyone in the family knows about how Jon’s fiancée used to be in a bad marriage when she was younger. “I’m happy for her, and I'm proud of Jon, too. He probably can’t believe how good he has it. I bet there won’t a bachelor party, huh?” Her voice bordered on amused.

  
“Apparently Sam’s throwing him one. I’m pretty sure it won’t be a standard one though.” Samwell Tarly is Jon’s best man and close friend, who like him, is currently engaged.

  
She raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Do you mean a bachelor party with no strippers?”

  
“I don’t think Sam would be able to pull that off.” Sansa replied, trying to hold down laughter. “Plus, even with strippers within a small vicinity, I don’t think Jon Snow would ever look at any other woman. Not if he’s about to be married to his dream girl.”

  
"Speaking of the dream girl, any news about Dany's bachelorette party? Have you even heard from her maid of honor?"

  
"Arya, I have never heard you this interested in a wedding before. You couldn't even care less about the preparations for Margie's bachelorette party."

  
She gave her sister a shrug in reply as she took another bite out of her food. "I love Margaery, but she had a ton of fake arse socialite friends. Dany, on the other hand, for as long as we've known her, we've only ever met one of her friends. I'm curious, is all."

  
"Well," Sansa started. "So far I don't know much about Dany's maid of honor. All I heard is that she's flying in this weekend."

  
"Flying in? Isn't that fancy. Flying in from where?" Arya raised her eyebrows in interest.

  
"Um," Her sister began flipping through her day planner. "From Los Angeles."

  
"American?" She asked in surprise.

  
"By law."

  
Arya gave her sister a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

  
"She's Dany's oldest friend. From when she was at the orphanage."

  
"That's interesting. Is she bringing anyone?"

  
Sansa once again looked down at the open page of her day planner. "Yeah, she's got a plus one."

  
"Well, can't wait to hear about her adventures in America." Arya and Gendry had planned to go on a North-American roadtrip after they both graduate from university, but they have not hashed out the plan yet. She's decided that maybe she could ask suggestions from Dany's friend.

  
"Oh, I just remembered," Sansa grabbed her smartphone from her bag, then handing it to Arya. "The wedding photographer just sent me Jon and Dany's pre-wedding photos."

  
Arya scrolled through the photos, each one showing Jon and Dany glowing with love. "Gods, they look like bloody celebrities." She lifted up the phone to show Sansa her favorite photo of the bunch—the one where Dany is in mid-laughter over something a smiling Jon had said. That was their natural state. Away from each other they were broody Jon and serious Daenerys, but together, they practically shone with joy. "I mean, look at them!"

  
“They look lovely together—absolutely perfect for each other.” Sansa agreed but Arya could see a little far-away look in her eyes.

  
Her sister would never admit it to her, but Arya knows where her mind went. It was always what she would appear to be thinking about whenever she was planning one of her client’s weddings.

  
It was Sansa’s own wedding—something that she has always secretly dreamed of the moment she first played pretend with her brother’s best friend.

 


	2. Robb I

Sometimes Robb wished he was back in his glory days.

  
Don't get him wrong, he loves his wife more than anything in the world and he wouldn't trade her for the world, but sometimes! He wonders what life would be like for him if he waited until his thirties to get married. Maybe if he had been a bit more patient like Jon, who had the whole timing thing figured out. Although, having met Daenerys sometime after graduating from university, he didn't date her until a year and a half later, and then proposed two years later. Now, it's been over a year since their engagement, and they're still about to be married.

   
His and his wife's story was much more fast-paced.

  
He and Margaery met at a work social. He was fresh out of uni, and he began as an intern at a recently kickstarted advertising company. It wasn't the writing gig he dreamt about since high school, but it was good enough as a start. Robb didn't have a hard time making new friends among his co-workers, but he did struggle with finding real connections. He never planned on attending the party in the first place, but one of the other new guys insisted he come along and "help each other out with the women." He spent the night making small talk with a lot of people whose names he didn't bother to remember instead. And when it became socially draining for him, he staggered onto the balcony for some fresh air.

  
She bumped into him with the grace of someone who wasn't used to bumping into people that he had a fleeting thought that maybe she had done it on purpose. She was a breathtaking sight, the magazine empire's favorite heiress, but what attracted Robb to Margaery was the confidence she had carried herself with. It was a conversation that started with flirty banter, but it ended with a discussion about personal principles and philosophies. And because Robb was Robb, there was no doubt he would score a date with her.

  
"Robb, my sweetling," Margaery's voice cooed from the phone. "You will be alright with Ed tonight, right?" He could her slight uncertainty in her tone.

  
He deduced that he could handle a two-year-old by himself for a couple of hours. "Don't worry, darling. Little Eddard and I would have some father-son bonding tonight."

  
"Are you sure? You haven't had a proper rest in the last few days," There was concern in her voice. After nearly four years of being together, Margaery's grandmother still challenged him. Olenna Tyrell, the matriarch of the family and their business, appeared to still be deciding whether or not Robb deserved her dear granddaughter's love. She did this by dumping on him the toughest projects to follow up on—the ones that need so much bloody research. "I can always postpone with Dany, I know she'd understand."

  
"I'll be okay, Margie. You have fun with Dany and Sansa tonight. I love you."

 

She let out a laugh, and it sounded like music to his ears. "Oh, you know I can't have that much fun without you. I love you, too."

  
He put down the phone and looked at boy he was sitting on the floor with. His son was flipping through a picture book about dragons (courtesy of Jon and Daenerys last Christmas) as though he could understand the words. Robb leaned over Ed and ruffled the mop of curly brown hair on his head. The boy was a hybrid of him and Margaery, with hair that curled like his and colored like hers, eyes that were clearly his, and a smile reminiscent of the boy's mum.

  
"It's just you and daddy tonight, Eddard." His son turned to him at the mention of his name and let out a giggle as he pushed his book towards his father's face.

  
*******

It had been a little over past seven in the evening when Robb heard the doorbell ring. He was relieved with the distraction. He spent the entire afternoon looking through every picture book with his son, and when they finished they looked through every channel on the telly. He finally found something good to watch after the twelfth time they scanned the channels available. He looked over at Ed beside him before getting up from the couch, who was engrossed at the children's movie playing on the telly.

  
"Wait here, okay, Ed?" He said as he rushed to the door. His son was too distracted to notice him.

  
Jon was at the door. His favorite cousin, wrapped up in a coat and a scarf, like a late Christmas present.

  
"Well, aren't you a vision." He said before wrapping Jon in a hug.

  
"I brought beer." He replied, lifting his right hand to reveal the paper bag with six cans of beer in it.

  
"Dinner first, though. Can't let you drink on an empty stomach." Robb gave him a pat on the shoulder. One thing he's always found funny about Jon is that when he drinks on an empty stomach, he gets over-confident drunk. The first time they've discovered it was sometime during their senior year in high school, when he and Theon had brought him to a pub located out of town to celebrate his birthday. The three of them had not eaten all day, since they saved their money to buy one of the most expensive drinks available. The aftermath was hysterical, with Jon nearly having his teeth whacked out of his mouth when he began hitting on a giant bear statue and having it fall on him. They were lucky the bartender just let them get away with it. Well, that and the fact that Jon only got a bruise from the experience.

  
Robb moved a little to the side, letting his cousin come into the house. Jon directly headed towards the sound of the TV and plopped down on the couch right next to Ed. "Hey there, buddy." He grabbed a plush dragon out of his bag and handed it to the boy.

  
Ed let out pleased giggle, grabbing the stuffed toy and lifted it up so his father could see it. " _Dago!_ "

  
"Yes, Eddard," Jon nodded excitedly, glad to hear the two-year-old speak. "That's a dragon."

  
Robb gave his son an equally enthusiastic nod, and gave the blue and green plush dragon a pat on its head before turning to his cousin. "Another bloody dragon, Jon? Ed's got too much dragons on his bed already." He complained.

  
"Dragons are cool, Robb. You can't deny that."

  
"Okay, yeah, but don't you think you're pushing your dragon propaganda too hard? All these dragons and not a single wolf in sight!"

  
"Well, you've bombarded me with so much wolves when we we're younger." Jon replied, and Robb thought about their childhood. "Think of this as payback."

  
Robb snorted at the memory of his younger self handing over his wolf figures to Jon. "Well, I guess that's fair. What are you doing here anyway?"

  
"Since the girls are out, I was thinking we could hang out. It has been quite a while now since the last time when it was just us two." Jon replied, a wee bit distracted. He was smiling down at Ed who was now letting his new toy watch the movie with him.

  
He nodded in agreement. "You've been pretty busy with the wedding after all."

  
"Yeah. Definitely not as busy as Sansa is, though."

  
"She likes to keep herself busy. You know how she is." His sister has always been like that. The only time he's actually seen her relaxed was when she was forced to relax because she got sick. "I'm sure she'll do a fantastic job. I know she definitely did with mine."

  
Jon nodded. "She's brilliant at what she does. I mean we should've known. She has planned so many weddings for her dolls when we were kids."

  
"Sansa planned lots of weddings between her and Theon, too." He didn't want to bring that up, but he wasn't able to stop himself from saying it out loud. That was nice of his childhood best friend, to play his sister's groom when neither he and Jon wanted to play that role, but Robb should've realized it before. Nothing good ever comes from playing pretend.

  
"Well," Jon began, cutting him away from his little recollection. But then he paused for a second, and it was clear to Robb that his cousin hesitated at the last moment.

  
"What?" He asked in reply, but he knew better than to press Jon Snow for what he didn't want to say yet.

  
"What have you got in your fridge?" Jon asked instead. It definitely wasn't what he was about to say, but Robb didn't want to push it.

  
"I've got some leftover Chinese food from earlier."

  
Jon stood up from the couch. "I'm going to eat that, if you don't mind. I'm starving."

  
Robb's curiousity got the best of him, and he was about to follow his cousin to the kitchen. But when he turned to Ed, the boy was already fast asleep, clutching the plush dragon to his chest.

  
He carried his son to his room, laid him on the bed, and tucked him in before kissing the boy's forehead good night.

  
When he got back to the living room, Jon was back on the couch with the Chinese food on his lap, a can of beer in one hand and the telly remote on the other. His cousin set the remote back on the table, and Robb noticed one of the classic James Bond films was about to start. He briskly walked over to the couch and grabbed another can before focusing entirely on the movie, his inquiry now forgotten.


	3. Margaery I

 

It would be the third time someone's hit on Sansa tonight, and Margaery realizes that this would also be the third time she rejects them.

 

The young man looks to be about in his early twenties, with a confident gait and wild blonde hair around his baby face that reminded her of her older brother Loras. Not to be biased, but he definitely was the best looking among the men who took an interest in her sister-in-law tonight.

 

Margaery and met up with Sansa and Danaerys in the afternoon, upon the bride-to-be's invitation. Dany needed help picking out the caterer for her wedding since Jon wasn't much of a help the first time they went food-tasting. It took them about five hours visit seven caterers until Dany finally choose her preferred menu for the wedding. And when the three of them had felt like they already ate too much variety of foods, they decided then to go down a peaceful little pub near their last caterer. It took them about three drinks to get a good buzz going. Sansa stopped after her third drink though, which kept her sober enough to reject every guy wanting to buy her a drink so she could explain that she's already had her fill.

 

And she was right. The red-haired beauty replied with a meek _no thank you_ —her third of the night (Margaery counted), when he offered to buy her a drink, without even sparing a glance at the poor guy. His confident bravado faded a little, but he simply walked away, getting the message.

 

"Sansa," Margaery began, her voice trying to one up the old timey pop tune playing from the jukebox. "It won't hurt to accept a drink from a good-looking man, you know. What are you so afraid of?"

 

She replied with a shrug, appearing to have ignored her question. "I wouldn't say he's that good-looking. But he's okay, I guess."

 

"Surely you would've caught the love bug at some point while planning all these weddings?" Daenerys inquired. Margaery knew the bride-to-be wasn't a total romantic, but she had a point.

 

Sansa pursed her lips, and began to hum while in thought. "Can't say I did, to be honest."

 

Margaery turned to look at Daenerys in confusion, and found the silver-haired stunner also looking back at her with the same expression. Both of them came into the family at the same time, only spanning months from each other. Dany entered the Stark's lives much earlier, but she was first introduced as Jon's "pretty lady friend," years before they officially became an item. Margaery on the other hand, met the family after her third date with Robb.

 

Which is why they were both practically clueless with the origin of Sansa's nonchalance with romance despite working for couples who are absolutely bonkers about each other. Margaery didn't want to pry, but they've all known each other long enough to be able to ask those kinds of questions.

 

"Tell us, Sansa," Dany began, leaning on the table. "Have you ever been in a relationship?"

 

It was a weird question to ask a gorgeous young woman, but even Margaery would like to know the answer to that.

 

Sansa scoffed, probably also at the ludicrosity of the query. "Of course I have."

 

"How many?" Dany didn't miss a beat.

 

Sansa pondered for a moment. "Like a real relationship?"

 

Margaery gasped, stupefied by what she just heard. "Of course a real relationship! Have you had fake ones?"

 

The red-head nodded in reply. "Yeah, actually."

 

Well, wasn't that an interesting answer. Growing up in the world of magazines and publishing, Margaery had come across a lot of fake relationship stories, but in the end, they will always be what they were marketed to be— fake stories. Made to entertain the readers. The readers love the fake to real relationship trope, which gave them delusions abut eventually falling in love with someone you're only pretending to be in love with. Now, she finally has a real life fake relationship story right in front of her. But Margaery figured that it should be a story for another time, as that isn't really the focus here.

 

"So, how many?" Dany asked, her purple eyes growing wider in anticipation.

 

"I've dated here and there, but three, I think."

 

"You think?"

 

"I'm not sure," Sansa said the words slowly, as though she was building up to something. "Because only one really mattered."

 

The girls pressed for more information. It looked like Sansa was about to hesitate and change the subject, but it looked like they were getting answers tonight. They might not get all the answers, but even the smallest detail will at least help them understand the mysterious Sansa Stark.

 

"It sounds corny," Her sister-in-law began, a nervous chuckle emerging from her mouth. "But he was the only one I ever saw myself marrying. At first it was just pretend, but then I realized I wanted it to be for real."

 

Margaery could see the pain in Sansa's eyes, despite the smile on her face. "And you loved him?"

 

"I guess you could say that."

 

"What happened?" Dany asked, clearly not wanting to push the younger woman for more details. Margaery was sure that she had also caught the glimmer of pain in those blue eyes of Sansa's.

 

"I'm not really sure, to be honest." She simply replied with a shrug, as though she was saying, that's that.

 

Margaery and Daenerys share a look, grasping the fact that the conversation on this certain topic was over. And they did understand. It seems as though that love left Sansa absolutely gutted even until now.

 

They both returned their attention to Sansa, who was now skimming through her day planner. 

 

"Dany," she began. "You haven't finalized your flower choices yet. I'm going to sound off my suggestions, okay? I'm going to need feedback by tomorrow night so my supplier can deliver them just in time for the wedding."

 

"Yeah, sure." The bride-to-be replied sincerely, adjusting herself in her seat so she could peer into the flower photos on the younger girl's phone.

 

Now that she isn't part of the conversation, Margaery took the time to check if her husband had left her any messages. And he did. When she clicked n the tiny mail icon, what graced her screen were two photos— the most recent one being a selfie with Jon in the living room, and another, which was sent about an hour before the selfie, was a picture of her baby boy sleeping peacefully. He was clutching a stuffed dragon which she's never seen before, and deduced that Jon must've given that to him.

 

After sending a thumbs-up emoji back to Robb, she returned her attention to Sansa, who had launched into naming blue-colored flowers for Daenerys. Cornflowers, hydrangeas, delphiniums, periwinkles, bellflowers, morning glories, and even blue poppies from the Himalayas.

 

This was her element. And it left Margaery watching in awe, wondering again about how a girl whose had her heart broken and closed herself off from love have this innate talent to produce the most magical, fairytale-like celebration of two hearts coming together as one.

 

This Sansa was still the same Sansa who planned her wedding with Robb, but now watching her work with Dany she could tell that she was much more dedicated now with giving people the best beginning of their happily-ever-afters.

 

Margaery wished she could help somehow. Sansa had granted her her dream wedding with her dream guy, and she wishes she could help Sansa find her dream guy so she could also get a dream wedding of her own.

 

Here's one thing about Margaery— she doesn't believe that wishes just come true. One has to do their part in order for their preferred outcome to become a reality. She grew up being taught that people have the power to make the things they want to happen actually happen.

 

She may be a Stark now, but growing up as a Tyrell will always be a part of her.

 

And lesson number one of being a Tyrell? _If there's a will, then there's a way._


	4. Sansa I

If Sansa had to be honest, it had been quite a shit day.

She had woken up to a cancellation so early in the morning. When she recognized the caller ID, she had already expected that one of her brides-to-be was about to change her mind about something. Jeyne was fickle like that. The last time she received a call from her at 5AM, it was to let Sansa know that she decided to change the colour motif from sea foam green to a Persian red.

But this time, it was the wedding Jeyne was changing her mind about.

"Sans," she wailed. Sansa ignored the fact that she always reminded Jeyne that she preferred being called by her actual name when with clients, but to no avail. "He's a bloody arsehole! I can't believe he'd been sleeping with Myranda! My secretary! Of all people in the world!"

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Miss Poole. I can't believe it either. He seemed to be absolutely smitten with you." She lied. She wasn't surprised one bit. She had seen how Jeyne's fiancé would act absolutely lovey-dovey with her and at the same time look at the secretary (who Jeyne had lugged around almost everywhere) with a sleazy expression on his face. What she didn't expect was that Myranda would be in on it too.

"Well, turns out he's not! He's been sleeping with the whore for months now! Right under my nose! I can't believe I didn't see the signs!"

Sansa can't believe it either. Ramsay definitely wasn't _that_ subtle. "Jeyne," she began, a little annoyance seeping through her voice. She can't be blamed for that. She didn't have the energy to deal with someone else's shit at half past six in the fucking morning. ""Would you like to meet up later so we can discuss the cancellation?"

"Oh, yes," she sniffed. "I really need a friend to talk to. Thanks, Sans."

That wasn't the point, but Sansa decided not to bring it up so she could end the call as soon as possible. "Okay. How about at that bistro near the park for brunch?"

"At about 10 o'clock? That'd be great."

"I'll see you then." She ended the call before the woman could say anything else.

She groaned and buried herself back in her blankets, dropping her phone on the carpeted floor in her bedroom without a care. 

  
*******

She was going to be late, Sansa knew it.

After being stuck in the lift for nearly thirty minutes, she exited her building with her jumper soaked with sweat and her hair stuck on her neck and forehead. The chilly wind had hit her like a sudden storm.

She wasn't looking forward to brunch with Jeyne, in fact, she just really wanted to get it over with.

It took about 20 minutes of standing outside with the wind slapping her face for her to decide stop waiting for a taxi and just walk to the bistro herself. At least maybe that could calm her down so she could speak to her client with a bit more sincerity than she did during their early morning conversation.

The short walk had given her time with her thoughts and she got to ponder about Jeyne's situation. Sansa wasn't as annoyed as she was earlier when she woozy with sleep. She began thinking about what her client must be going through. Ramsay might have been a huge bag of dicks, but Jeyne was an okay person. So, yeah, she changed her mind a lot and it annoyed Sansa for days on end since she had to keep calling up her suppliers to keep them updated with the changes made, but Jeyne was just someone who wanted to live happily ever after.

Okay, so she might have had the slightest suspicion that Ramsay was up to no good, but it was a personal rule of hers to never get involved with her clients' lives outside of the wedding ceremony. Plus, she's done weddings that consisted of some quite shitty people, but so far, the love she'd seen was real. On second thought, maybe it only looked real.

Sansa mentally noted that this would be the first wedding she had to plan that wasn't going to happen, and although this was not her fault in any way at all, she had put it under the _failure_ folder in her mind.

By the time she reached outside the bistro, her face was numb but she was less cranky by then. She was not as bothered by the cold anymore.  
"Sans!" She heard Jeyne's voice before she could catch sight of her as soon as she entered.

She was sitting at a small table for two at the back of the establishment. Sansa was surprised to see her looking so composed, as opposed to the wailing mess she had spoken to on the phone early that morning.

But as she got closer, she could see that her nose was a little red and her huge brown eyes were still a bit puffy. Still, Jeyne was smiling.  
"Miss Poole," Sansa nodded stiffly before taking a seat in front of her.

"Oh, please, call me Jeyne," She let out a small chuckle. "I'm technically not a client anymore. We're just merely friends now."

Sansa didn't exactly agree to that sentiment, but she decided to humour her anyway. "Very well then, Jeyne," She emphasized, and her client's sad eyes slightly light up. "I'm really sorry about what happened."

Jeyne shrugs nonchalantly, though her eyes were anything but. "What's done is done. Myranda left on her own accord, she sent me her resignation letter and everything. She can't expect any good recommendations from me though. And, Ramsay," She had a hard time getting that name out of her mouth. "Well, that fucking prat just lost everything going for him. Daddy fired him, so he won't be getting job offers any time soon, unless he'd apply to drive a lorry, then maybe he'd get that. "

Sansa didn't exactly know what to say next. "I'm really sorry." She repeated instead, because she really was.

"Don't be. You're not the one who cheated on me." Jeyne said through clenched teeth.

She was right. So Sansa decided to get down to business. "I brought the contracts," She took out a pale blue binder (which contained all the wedding vendor contracts) out of her tote and placed it gently on the table.

She wanted to slap herself after realizing her carelessness—she should've torn out the label on the binder cover! The sparkly label had the words _Poole-Bolton Nuptials_ in a pretty font.

Jeyne was gracious enough to pretend she didn't notice. "Aren't you going to order?"

"I had breakfast before I left home," Sansa lied. She was getting quite uncomfortable. She just wanted to be done with it all.

They went over the contracts as Jeyne ate her salad. It turns out that they couldn't get the deposits from most vendors back because the date of the wedding was too near. Only two had agreed to give refunds. Even the expensive wedding dress couldn't be returned.

"I'll try selling that online," Jeyne offered. "I'm going to sell the ring, too." She said, referring to the Asscher cut whopper of a diamond ring she had shown off to Sansa the when they first seeked out her services.

"Is it not a family heirloom?"

"It is, I think," She shrugs. "It was supposed to go to his older brother, but he asked for it from their father first."

"You can't sell that, Jeyne. They could sue you." Sansa had done some research earlier. The court almost always rules an engagement ring, whether or not an heirloom, as a conditional gift. Which means that if no wedding had taken place, then the condition has not been met. The giver of the ring would always get it back.

"I know," Jeyne groaned in frustration. "I just hate him so much right now."

"I'm really sorry." She said again, and her client simply replied with a small smile.

Jeyne later asks if Sansa could help her mail back all the engagement gifts along with the word that there won't be any wedding happening. They were already out of the bistro, on their way to go their separate ways. She abruptly turns to look at Jeyne.

"Don't you have any friends?" It came out harsher than Sansa would like.

"I don't think they'd be pleased to hear about this," Jeyne replied. "And I'm not ready to deal with their questions."

Sansa ended up feeling even more bad. She remembered how Jeyne's friends were all fans of Ramsay. Apparently he was very charming, something Sansa had failed to see the entire time she's known him.

"Okay, fine." She conceded, and the other girl gratefully gave her a hug.

"Thank you so much, Sans," Jeyne said, before crossing across the street to get to her car.

When Jeyne's car was out of sight, Sansa headed straight to another restaurant a few streets away. She wanted some time to gather her thoughts.

  
*******

At least the other wedding— well, now the only wedding— she was planning was going well.

Harrold, the wedding photographer she had hired for Jon and Dany, had sent her their pre-wedding photos. As she scrolled through the photos one by one, a piercing jab of envy came over her. She ignored it, because it has become such a normal occurrence that it didn't make her feel as bitter as she did before.  
She took out her phone from her pocket, and began composing a text message for her sister.

_Hey, you free for lunch right now?_

Her phone made a sound before she can place it on the table.

_Yea, where r u?_

She replied with the restaurant's name, and set her phone down on the table. A waitress approached a minute later, asking Sansa what she would like to have. She was about to tell the waitress that she was waiting for someone, but she heard someone call her name.

Arya made her way towards her, with a black rucksack on her back. "Hey," she greeted before plopping down on her seat and grabbing the other menu on their table. She didn't bother looking at it too long. "I'll be getting the Roast Beef, please. And a mug of Cider on the side, too."

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed.

"What? I won't get sloshed with one measly mug." She turned back to the waitress. "And a glass of water too, please." Arya gave her sister a self-satisfied look.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "I'll have the toasted cheese sandwich and a strawberry iced tea. Thanks." She was starving, but she and Margaery were going to tag along with Daenerys later in the afternoon to do some taste-tests with the caterers in the bride-to-be's list. It was going to be a long day.

Arya snorted as the waitress walked away. "A sandwich? You eat like a bird."

"Great seeing you, too, Arya," she said, hoping that the somberness seeping through her voice didn't catch her sister's attention. "Where did you come from anyway?"

"I was in that bookstore right around the corner," she motioned her head towards the direction she came from. "I was looking for a book that Gendry needed for one of his classes."

Sansa frowned a little. It's not that she didn't like her sister's boyfriend, because she trusts Gendry with Arya. There's just this niggling voice at the back of her mind that keeps asking her what if it doesn't end well? She doesn't want her little sister to get hurt! Sansa knows that Arya can handle herself, but she can't help but worry anyway.

"So, um," she began. "Have you told Gendry about the wedding theme already? So he can get a tie to match, because I want everything to be picture perfect for Jon and Dany. I can also be the one to look for a tie for you if you want, since I'll be the one buying ties for Bran and Rickon anyway—" That's when she noticed that Arya wasn't even paying attention to a single thing coming out of her mouth. "Arya?"

Sansa snapped her fingers in front of her sister's face until she returned to reality.

The rest of their time together was spent discussing Jon, Dany, and their wedding. It reminds her of something she doesn't want to remember.

Weddings always make her nostalgic.

  
*******

She practically dragged herself up the stairs to her flat, because the lift wasn't fixed yet. Sansa was glad she stopped at her third drink because if she had been in any way smashed, then there wouldn't have been any doubt that she'd sleep at her building's lobby.

She ended up grabbing the wrong set of keys when she searched around in her tote so she can get her door open. Sansa gave the keys an abrupt second look when she realized that she didn't have any other set of keys.

"Fuck," she groaned, realizing that she didn't have any other set of keys in her bag.

She had accidentally switched her keys for Dany's car keys. She had been the designated driver because both Dany and Margie were already buzzed from the drinks they had at the pub.

She drove Margie home first, because Jon had texted her that he was with Robb. He decided leave Dany's car outside the Tyrell-Stark home, and just bring his fiancée home in his car. Her keys must be on its way to her cousin's place.

Sansa was too frustrated to do anything about it. But she didn't have a choice. She slowly descended the stairs, every step painfully reminding her that she should be lying down in bed by now, if not for this mishap. 

What a shit way to end a shit day.


End file.
